Aaaa the chapters are all getting longer. i noticed it when i editted them...
Enjoy this chap, kids! I hope its not as hot there at your home as here!
After nearly twenty years living in high society, Gokudera Hayato had learnt some of the reasons why people would get into a fight for. First, for previously married couple, it may be for child custody. Most of time, it isn't that much for the love of the children; but it's always harder to blame the single mother with three dependent children than the new bachelor, free and with nothing to worry about except for paying the alimony.
Second, people sometimes fight for the inheritance. For Hayato, it was certainly the most foolish reason. In his case, it was already a wonder why his father decided to acknowledge the natural son, though never once he felt comfortable under the old man's condescending glance. On the other hand, the young silverette was more the kind of person to value themselves from their achievements rather than the blood running in their veins.
Then come the petite motives: interest. How many of those men and women could smile in public dressed up in the most beautiful garments and jewels and show off their wit, as many as you wish, but in the shadow use the wickedest and pettiest tricks for their small intrigues in order to get rid of a rival, to get hold of some naïve one's fortune, to get revenge over an insulted pride, or whatsoever. His own family was certainly the best illustration. Even Hayato couldn't foretell how much Bianchi's wedding with Xanxus would break the fragile equilibrium of interest and trust in the Gokudera clan.
And finally this last reason which, in Gokudera Jouji and many other people's opinion, is by far the least efficient one when it becomes a hindrance for the previous reasons: love.
At that moment, Hayato was faced with a brand new situation. He had listened to Bel's explanation, but instead of making his thoughts cleared, it only messed them more.
Was that Xanxus bastard truly that psycho professor's lover? If that was true, so much the better for him. But why did he want to marry someone else then? The raven was indecently rich; a marriage would bring nothing more to his wealth and power. That game he was playing with the long haired man was purely morbid, stupid and useless… And why the hell did his sister have to be mingled with their little and insignificant trifles?
"But your sister isn't the only one flouted here." Bel said, Hayato could recall.
That day, the Student Council's 'trial' had ended rapidly (like everything dealt by the fearsome Hibari Kyoya). In regard of the overwhelming evidences against both Gokudera and Belphegor, the Council recognized them as being fully liable for the damages and trouble they created in Namimori U. Hibari first thought about biting both of them to death, but after due consideration, it was decided that living prisoners would do better work at repairing and replacing everything they broke than dead ones. And surprisingly, none talked about that presumed fondness for the 'baseball player' anymore.
After listening to his penalty (three months of forced labor), Hayato went home, crestfallen and beaten. The youth was now sitting in the darkness of his bedroom, unable to decide whether he should have a talk with Bianchi or let his doubts die in the bud. What did that Belphegor weirdo mean anyway? Bianchi wasn't the only flouted one… Hayato started rummaging in his memory. Back then, in the restaurant, wasn't Superbi Squalo with someone else? A blond, tall and with a kind of familiar face…
"Che. Why do I even bother about all that shit?" Hayato exclaimed and chucked his bag on the ground before slumping on the bed. If truth be told, he had never been pretty good at dealing with love problems, whether they were other people's or his own…
Plus that was right. That didn't concern him. At the very most, he felt concern for Bianchi, but she was an adult, wasn't she? She was strong and bright – no matter how many times would strangers call him a prodigy, Hayato was positive Bianchi had always been the shrewdest of them two. She didn't need to be protected like some frail princess.
No, she didn't, did she…
"Sis'!" The young silverette called out as he walked out of his bedroom.
Bianchi was nowhere to be found. She wasn't in her rooms, she wasn't in the library or in the living… Hayato was about to give up his searching when he finally found the young woman in the patio.
That place had always been Bianchi's favorite place in the mansion. It was a greenhouse arranged like an English garden, with black steel columns on which ivy was climbing, flower beds beautifully scattered in the defined space, and a colorful flora which was absorbing in a very pleasing way the sunlight filtered by the glass walls and roof. A wonderfully sweet scent was lingering in the air; a scent which, in the middle of the summer, could turn incredibly unctuous. The young woman was crouched behind blossoming shrubs, wearing simple yet tasteful clothing. When her brother came in, she was tailing her precious lilies and hydrangeas and cautiously dampening the leaves of her dahlias. Bianchi didn't even turned back as she heard her name being called again.
"Sis', I have to talk to you about something."
"Why that grave tone?" Bianchi asked, her eyes still focused on the flower and the small shears in her hands.
Hayato stayed few feet behind her. "Finally, I can't accept your marrying that depraved bastard! You won't believe what I've heard today about him. As I thought, he's just a corrupt, an insane! I won't let such a wanton man-"
"Hayato." Bianchi stood up and eyed at her brother with an imperious look. "We're ruined."
…
Saying that receiving Bel's note concerning the New Zealand trip had made Xanxus angry (Dino never said anything about the destination, but that name, 'New Zealand', had a nice ring in the blond's ears) was an euphemism. The first thought which had crossed the raven's mind was one of a murder. A vicious and bloody murder. He was already licking his lips thinking about repainting the streets with the damn Casanova and the silver haired trash's blood, two coats, and then making a damn garland with their bowels. Hell, Cavallone couldn't say the raven hadn't warned him.
Xanxus indeed considered the idea of a double homicide… yet he did nothing: Ieyasu's reprimand still was printed with burning letters in his brain. So Xanxus – for the first time in his long life – complied with someone's request (the word 'order' was even now a bit too much for him). After that little expedition at Byakuran's suite, Xanxus was back to his office. As a matter of fact, he had no other place to go at the moment.
Slumping in his armchair, liquors of all sort – dry curacao, kummel, anisette, kirsch, gin, raki from Chio, calvados, slivovitz, mirabelle, the whole lot artistically counterbalanced with a mix of whisky, cognac and vodka in a fashion the raven had mastered through years – liquors of all sort set on his desk, Xanxus was ready for his introspection.
What did that old man mean by 'nonsense'? Well, maybe that was the polygamy thing. Good, Xanxus pondered. Already one answer. The kirsch was doing its job. But what did Ieyasu expect? That he, Xanxus, would put one knee to the ground, take that silver haired trash's hand, look at him in the eye – those heavy grey orbs, how deep and captivating and troubling they were – and fucking ask him…
Shit. That was bad. Swap the whisky with kummel. Such stupid thoughts, one truly has to be drunk to even weigh them up.
And what about that chick… That… What's-her-name Bianca? Ieyasu said a name like this. A well-born girl, slightly preppy, nice face, nice body and all. Honestly, when the old geezer described her, Xanxus had the impression he was talking about some woman he had already fucked. How many of those had he done, only this year? Ah, that's true. Not so many, since most of time he'd been with the trash. When Xanxus saw her, he was thankful the girl wasn't an ugly ass. But, dear Lord, the family… Xanxus gulped down another glass of whisky as he recalled the go-getter father and the emo brother. A bullet in the head would have been better than listening to their prattling. Or rather, no. A bullet can hurt a lot. What about marrying the trash instead?
"Bwahaha! That'd be the best!" Xanxus burst out laughing.
"Excuse me, sir." Hana appeared behind the office's entrance. "Is there something wrong?"
"Get out of here, you stupid vitch!" The raven roared.
The vitch quickly got out. Back to curacao.
Anyway, how would he look like with a fucking man at his arm. in the church and on the photos? He didn't want to be the laughing stock of some damn bigoted and jealous scumbags. 'Cause that's the whole matter, isn't it? Jealousy. They could use sweat and tears for the rest of their pathetic lives, they would never be able to heap up even only the third of his wealth. Vodka. Yeah, those fucktards could get the most beautiful actresses, singers and models, and then have them replaced with younger and prettier bitches after few years, the raven was quite sure they wouldn't find one as gorgeous as his trash… or as hot… or as committed … or as perfect…
Xanxus flinched as the picture of Squalo in a wedding-dress slowly emerged from the meanders of his mind. Or was it a retch, Xanxus didn't know. In his half-drunken, half-dazed state, the tanned man caught the sight of a small village (though he couldn't tell if it was a reminiscence of his childhood or only a scene from The Godfather movie) lost somewhere in the middle of the Sicilia island, a hamlet which had practically grown out of the stony hills and green plains and the unique river miles around. The weather was hot, scorching, a real canicule preserved by the harsh sirocco which was peeling the skin under its painful touch. A smell of dust and olive oil.
The bell in the old church's belfry was ringing. A newly wed couple was crossing the square, followed by the singing and applauding and shouting crowd. It wasn't an extravagant wedding: there was almost no car at all and the gathering was mainly made of villagers and family. The villagers themselves were the family. The couple then went down the unique street of the village, saluting every villager on their way and receiving their gifts and wishes for a long and happy life.
The raven remained pensive. Not once in his life had he thought about his wedding ceremony, but if he had to go through it, Xanxus would rather have something small and convivial like this one.
Calvados.
However, the pious and traditional ceremony only would bear such a humble and decent air. The real party, they would held it at the familial mansion where had been celebrated his father's marriage and many others before it. Xanxus silently puffed at how respectful of the family's traditions he had become, he, the revolted child, the revolted teenager and convict-to-be adult. Yet at the moment, the tanned man could think of no other place he would belong to but there, at VR Co.'s head.
Ah? If he had to choose between this and the silverette, you ask? Rubbish. Cognac. Xanxus would not choose. He would take everything, make everything his. What would be the use of only one of them if he couldn't have the other? That's what Xanxus Vongola's believes were.
And otherwise what? Had the trash even think about quitting his job? It would have been so easy for the raven if he did, if he accepted standing constantly there, by his side… however that was more than certainly the booze which was talking, not him.
Xanxus wanted to go back to his made-up memories (finally, they did come from the movie).
Suddenly, he was the bridegroom. He was pulling at the bride's forearm for the latter to walk more quickly. The raven was fed up of the heat and the noise. At least, the manor was air-conditioned. The bride whined and cursed at him. Somehow, Xanxus recognized that voice. That familiar, noisy and annoying voice. He glared at the bride's face: that was Squalo who was frowning back at him.
"What the fuck is this shit…" Xanxus grunted annoyingly while swallowing the content of his glass.
The silver haired trash was standing there, in the middle of th ballroom and surrounded by his acquaintances. Was Xanxus drunk? Yes, of course he was, but that didn't explain why he was daydreaming about a transvestite silver haired man! Anyway, the trash didn't look bad, dressed up like a bride.
The muslin dress he was wearing was long and white, and an impressive drape-like tulle train, beaded and embroidered, was spreading down on the ground like a lunar disc. White decorated gloves at his forearms, shoes trimmed with lace at his feet, and silver hair glistening a subtle silvery sheen falling on narrow shoulders, on a swan-like neck and on thin arms into a veil of waves, with a profusion of sweet peas, clematis and irises pinned at one side of the silverette's head. The scent from them made the raven want to lean on the silverette to smell at it. And rip that fucking robe open.
"Let's go to bed…" Xanxus whispered in the smaller man's ear, or more exactly he wanted to, but then he remembered there was no party, no mansion in Sicilia, no silver haired beauty. There were only his office, his booze and he, an idiotic thirty-four years old bachelor who surely would never ever get married and who would end up a bachelor at fifty because no one could put up with him.
By that moment, the level of alcohol in Xanxus' blood had equaled Boris Yeltsin's. Nevertheless, even lost in the deepest profundity of Holy Booze, one can have their moments of lucidity. Xanxus' one consisted into recalling Bel had sent him the silver head's new phone number in his last note.
Xanxus dialed.
"Who's that?" The rash voice of that moron resounded in the receiver.
Xanxus' voice was thick when he talked. "Trash… Come here right now."
"Voi… is that you, Xanxus?" Squalo grunted. "How did you get this number? And why the fuck are you calling at that hour? You're drunk again, are you."
The last one wasn't a question, more a reproach. "So what if I am? Come here. I'm horny."
"Che. You're kidding me, aren't you. Voi, it's late. And I already told you we're over. I'm not-"
"Like I'd give a fuck about such bullshit!" The raven barked. "You damn whore. Or is having that shitty Cavallone fuck your asshole so damn good it can take no more fucking?"
Silence. To tell the truth, Xanxus was so smashed he didn't know anymore whether the silverette was silent or if he had rung off. And two seconds later, none of all this was a problem to the raven since he collapsed on the carpeted floor and almost immediately fell unconscious. He didn't hear his secretary opening the door, running at him while calling at his name. He didn't understand how he still could draw himself up and walk to the entrance – right before losing consciousness again.
A total black out.
Xanxus only woke up from his torpor few hours later (to be more precise, 11 hours later) in a room he didn't recognize, in a bed too big for only one person, dressed in clothes which weren't his, with flowers all around him, scattered all over the pillows and sheets. A horrible headache was nailing his head on the cold mattress.
"The hell…" He grunted.
"Voi, you're finally up?" Squalo said behind him. Surprised, Xanxus swiftly turned back, only to have his headache worsen. "Don't move so fast. I don't want you to throw up again."
"What are you fucking doing here?" Xanxus eyed cautiously at the half-naked silverette lying close to him, at the unknown bedroom, and again all those flowers all over the place. "Are we on honey moon?"
"Stop joking about that." The silverette got up and walked to a body-length mirror, not far from the bed. He tied his hair into a loose bun. "Don't fucking tell me you've forgotten all the shit you did last night."
Last night? Did he do anything? All Xanxus could remember was his passing out in his office. That was all. That and other little details that appeared in flash in his head… The raven groaned and slowly turned round to look at Squalo who was staring gloomily at him. "Voi, Xanxus… You seriously have an alcohol problem, you know…" He sat on the bed, the weight of his body making the mattress creak beneath them. He pointed at Xanxus' shirt (only now did Xanxus notice it was a pyjama top). "First, this one is mine. You ruined you shirt when you threw up on it. My pants and shoes too. I don't know what you've been drinking yesterday, but quit it -"
"Yeah, yeah. And after that?"
Squalo sighed. It was a lost cause to try to change that bastard. "I think you called me ten times or so. Then you sent people at my house. Honestly, are you a fucking kid for doing things like this?... Oh, fuck this. By 3a.m., you were drumming at my door like a madman. I'm sure you stirred the whole building up. And with motherfucking flowers, for God's sake! Holy shit. I thought I'd die of shame. Of course, I had to open. I'll spare you all the insanities you've shouted. You broke the handle of the door, we were shut up outside. Fortunately your chauffeur had the spare keys for your room. I had to drag you inside, that's when you puked right before passing out. Fuck, that was just… Anyway, why don't you have any change of clothes here, you stupid? You would have frozen to death if I hadn't given you mine! Now thanks to you, all my plans for today are spoiled, plus I have to find a locksmith for that fucking door. And it's Saturday, goddammit!"
The exasperated silver haired man went to the bathroom from where the raven soon could hear the whisper of the shower. In the same way as a zombie, Xanxus crept on the bed and reached at a cell phone on the nightstand. He unlocked the screen. It was past 1p.m.
"I don't give a flying fuck about your shitty plans. And why were you still in your underwear, you dumb trash?" Xanxus inquired.
"I just woke up so shut it." Squalo's voice came to the raven as though he had been in a grotto. "I could barely sleep because of you! And also…" He paused a little. "I tell you all my plans are spoiled. I've nothing to do anymore for the rest of the weekend."
Xanxus could hear to the silverette's whining without truly listening, as always. Crimson orbs ogling at the ceiling light, he was thinking. In his inner-self, the tanned man was cursing himself for showing such a desperate face to the idiotic scumbag. Just what had crossed his mind last night for ending up so badly messed up?… And what kind of shit had he blabbered to the other idiot? He was secretly hoping it wasn't all the shit he had been thinking about the night before.
But the most important question which was tearing him was certainly this one: what the fuck was he doing there, stupidly lying in the bed, when in the bathroom the trash was practically waiting for him, fucking naked and wet? If that wasn't enough to drag him back then nothing else would.
And the raven indeed was dragged back.
…
Squalo really felt he was slowly going mad. He was losing it, he was totally screwed. His instinct was telling him he was wrong, his reason was laughing at his weakness, and Squalo couldn't fight it back.
At the very moment the raven was calling at him, was looking at him, the cells of his body were subdued. It was as though his being could belong to no one else, nothing else but that carnal and arrogant bastard. And in the morning, things would come back as if nothing had ever happened the night before. After all, screwing around for fun was one thing, but when reality was dawning behind the blind of the bedroom's window, with its obligations and necessities and engagements, at least one of them had to act like an adult and leave the room first. Then there would be nothing else left for the silver haired man but a hollow feeling in his belly and the promise of another escapade the night after.
A hellish rondo of hot and desperate nights with Xanxus, and then in the morning, the empty bed. Again. And there was absolutely no way Squalo could escape from the web that had been weaved around him.
Dino was more than aware of that situation, even if he didn't give the impression. Yet the childhood friend kept on coming at every fake date. In the day time, they would have their lunches at their usual bistro; from time to time, Dino would follow the silverette for his shopping or invite him – in the friendliest way possible – to go to the cinema, to premieres or to any other representation the blond was invited to as an honor guest. They could be seen together so often people could ever question themselves if Dino wasn't the truly recognized boyfriend (unfortunately for the yellow press, there had never been any evidence proving this fact or the contrary).
But that was only till the night came, altogether with the same game; a game which had started precisely that day Squalo 'ditched' him at the airport. Dino, as always, didn't take offense.
"You can't make it for tonight?" Dino would ask Squalo now and then, every time knowing perfectly what the answer would be. "So what about tomorrow night? Still a no? Okay, I got it. You still have stuff to do at work. I'll see you tomorrow afternoon, then."
Such an ignominious farce, such a shameful agreement between them three. However, how to fill that hideous hollow in the silverette if not with Dino's countless attentions and limitless patience? Of this dilemma, even the blond was aware. Did that help him accept the situation his friend had imposed on him? Who knew? A man said someday that one could love someone, serve them and never get anything in return, and still be happy. It was Dino Cavallone's case. But instead of happiness, what he felt was rather akin to anger – anger against himself for never being good enough. For years, Dino had tried to build up a heart of stone in order to become an upright adult, one Squalo could be proud being seen with. He didn't even know if he succeeded, and the silver head would surely hit him for asking.
And talking about things he didn't want Squalo to know, there was also the fact he would stay in his car for one or two hours long, waiting in front of Namimori U for the silverette to come out, and keeping on thinking about the same questions over and over again, forehead resting pathetically on the wheel. If said car hadn't been a shining and glitzy new Mercedes, Dino would have surely been arrested since long for harassment.
But that day hadn't been a normal day at all for the blond. The reason was because it had been the first day of the state of emergency the Student Council's president had established: security level increased all over Namimori U, instant check-up of every students at the entrance and verification of the students' ID inside the building, and furthermore… The university suddenly turned to be a military base, everything due to Bel's recent infiltration – and also to few strange incidents that occurred to another student, one of the so impossible-to-remember ones. Now, the smallest change had to be reported to the Council. It didn't take long before they noticed right before the portico that luxurious car whose license plate corresponded to none of Namimori U's students, professors or staffs.
In this kind of situation, normally a member of the bureau would be sent for the inquiry – and that was precisely what they did. But when said member came back with the owner's answer ("I'm waiting for the professor Superbi Squalo. I'm one of his friend, Dino Cavallone"), the president clearly showed his disapproval by personally taking the case in his hands and smashing the Mercedes's driver side door with a blow of his tonfa. That nearly made said Dino Cavallone have a heart attack.
"Aaah! What's wrong with you?" Dino exclaimed after he got out of the car. He stared desperately at the damage on the door: it was totally condemned. Dino wept. Kyoya grimaced.
"I've already told you not to come around, haven't I?" The dark haired youth hissed.
"To come inside! And I'm outside!"
"Stop whining, you stupid herbivore. Your voice is bothering me." And to emphasize his point, Kyoya broke a window pane. Dino squeaked louder before falling down on his knees, his cheek rubbing against the metal of the bodywork as though it was a wounded pet.
"Why did you have to do that?" The blond snoozed. "And I just bought her! Now she's mutilated!" He snoozed again. "Squalo is going to laugh at me again…"
Hibari's eyebrows furrowed. That man, again. "Herbivore." He spoke. "Why are you, all of you, so fond of that man?"
The Cavallone heir blinked with surprise. A soft smile naturally made its way on his features, as every time he was asked this question. "Of Squalo? Umm… I don't know about the others, but for me, he's an inestimable friend. When we were kids, he always helped me out, even if he didn't even know me well, back then. I don't know how it's possible, but, in spite of all appearances, he can have a lot of patience toward people in general. I myself owe him a lot. But lately…" Dino silenced as he recalled he was talking to a complete stranger about his personal problems.
Still, the half-interested, half-bored expression on the other male told him he could go on. "Lately, things are a little different. So different I recently thought about just giving up and going back to Italy. Aa. Even if I don't wanna hear my father criticizing me again. But it's never very fun to have one-sided feelings for someone… Oh, I'm sorry for bothering you with my stories, but it's only, you know,… I'm tired of it. I'm tired of telling myself that I could have done anything for him, for a single word from him. And in spite of everything, what the other one can give him I can't give. Finally, maybe he had been too good for me, and me too foolish." Dino ended his tirade with a desperate sigh then looked at Kyoya's face, unsure of what he would see.
Hibari was looking back at him with a disgusted air. "Did you know it? You're one damn annoying of an herbivore."
TBC
